


Down South

by Paranoid_Sparrow



Category: Wild West (TV)
Genre: Cowboys & Cowgirls, F/M, Gunslingers, Horses, Oldtimes, Outlaws, Travel, Wild West, Wilderness, montana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:40:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paranoid_Sparrow/pseuds/Paranoid_Sparrow
Summary: Dustin was born to a farming family in Montana, she was the last born only having one older brother. Her mother did not make it through childbirth, thus leaving only her father and brother to raise her (there was no female presence in her younger years). Her body language can come off as more masculine at times. She often followed in her brother's footsteps and helped run the farm when she came of age. She was taught to live off the land and only take what was needed, her father made sure of that. Her younger years mainly consisted of maintaining the livestock thus learning how to ride a horse and how to rope unruly cattle. At the age of 16 her brother left the farm to hunt for gold (he wanted to strick rich at a gold mine), Only a few years later her father's health would start to decline. When her father died, the farmland was auctioned off, since only married women could own such a thing. She packed up what she could and is now in search for her brother.





	Down South

Dustin jumped off her horse landing on the mushy ground below, the rocks on the river bank were coated in velvet moss, there was a small river which had slow-moving water that headed south. She led her horse to the water, Roosters hung his head low, tired after a five-day journey from the north. She splashed some water on herself trying to scrub a few day's worth of dust, sweat, and mud off of her, her jacket hung off of one shoulder exposing her bare arm. Water trickled down over her arm, tracing the muscles and dripping onto the rocky ground below. She took her other arm out of her jacket making her shoulders and chest fully exposed, she repeated what she did to the other arm. Dustin satisfied with her attempt to wash her arms next moved to her face. She cupped her hands and filled it with water, quickly splashing her face. She wiped the water around her eyes, Dustin's eyes were a deep green with golden streaks. Her father said she got from her mother, a long bronze haired woman with green eyes, or so she imagined.  
The sky was painted with white clouds on a light blue backdrop, a rigid cliff stood tall in the mid-ground of the sky. The cliff was craggy but not barren, trees shrubs sprouted from the jagged face. Tall pine trees surrounded the base of the cliff. A typical sight in Montana. The pine trees swayed with each passing breeze, the smaller birch trees' leaves were starting to turn golden yellow as they did every autumn, a few leaves danced in the air as the wind carried them away. Dustin's horse Atticus raised his head and became stiff, his maine swirled in the wind. Dustin looked up from the river and towards her horse "What are you looking at?" A cold sudden wind blew, it brushed a few stragglers of hair that came out of her braid out of her face. She narrowed her eyes and tried to make out any figures off in the brush, the only thing she spotted was a small black squirrel jumping from tree to tree. "Paranoid aren't you?" She looked back at the river and readjusted her shirt, she rebuttoned her jacket and then slowly picked herself up off of the pebbles. "A few more hours and we'll be at a town… hopefully". She raised her leg and in one motion swung the other over the saddle and mounted, she outstretched her arms and picked up the reins. Another gust of wind blew that made the leaves swirl, she took one last look around and then made a clicking noise, Rooster with a snort picked up his head and carried on words into the woods.

[+] 

Dusk had fallen and the crickets and fireflies had come out lighting up the path as they trotted along. Dustin was sure she was close but doubt set in "dammit". There were only a few precious minutes with sunlight left, it cast tall shadows on the ground, the pair had ridden into a plain flat area only occupied with a few kinds of bushes and shrubs. The rays of the sun casted a silhouette of the rider on the path, it caught Dustin's attention. She watched the black figure copy her actions, it seemed in a way eerie to look at a black silhouette that was looking back at you like she was a mere puppet. She then shifted her attention back onto the trail ahead, the rocks under the horse’s hooves would make a clacking noise, occasionally they would kick the loose soil up and make a small dust cloud behind them.  
“Dusk comes sooner than expected, eh Roost?” She leaned back and scratched Roosters croup, the loose bit of dirt and hair got picked up in the wind and carried to someplace new. The path in front of them curved to the right and led into a thicket, the long limber branches were woven into one another creating a dense canopy. The trees were mostly bare at the bottom sporting few branches and leaves, the tops of the roots stuck up out of the dirt like the soil had been worn away. As soon as they entered the thicket they came out on the other side with the town of Taintooth.  
Taintooth was a small town that was known for its brothel and saloon. The town is no stranger to gangs and outlaws, who would often seek companionship for an hour or a night with the soiled doves before riding off into the foothills at any sign of the law. Since Taintooth was a small settlement there were no local sheriffs or marshals. Not yet at least.  
Dustin rode down the middle of the road towards the inn, the shopkeepers had already lit their lanterns and placed them by their doors and in the windows. The road was fairly quiet not many townsfolk were out, those who were, gave a quick glance at the pair but did nothing more. A sign caught Dustin’s attention, “DeadWood Bar” she mumbled under her breath, she rode close and then came to a stop. The saloon looked in rough shape, one glass pane was broke with glass shattered glass sitting on the bench below it. There was a thin-looking door, it looked liked it had been kicked in at some point, dusty boot prints could still be seen by the knob and lock. She refocused her attention and brushed the stray bits of hair out of her face and tucked them behind her ears, she swung her leg over the saddle and slid off landing on the loose dirt below. Her hands dropped the reins and moved to an old worn leather pack at the back of the saddle, as she fumbled with the buckle a conversation caught her attention  
“Scared of his own shadow, he is only happy when he is being coddled by the strong motherly type” Stated a raucous male voice so matter of factly.  
“I am many things but a coward I am not. Perhaps a fool for putting up your tripe dear brother, a coward I am not” Another taut male voice responded.  
“Oh, I touched a nerve I see” The first male voice laughed. Dustin peered over the saddle to get a look at the men bickering in front of the saloon, one man shook his head and aggressively opened the saloon door only for it to be slammed moments later. The other man stood by a thin short young woman, he slicked back his hair and they both walked the other way. She shook her head and dug through her pack to find a small drawstring bag, the drawstring had seen better days, the once white cotton was stained with dirt and various other liquids. She tied Rooster up to the post and climbed the steps which lead to the wooden floor, her footsteps echoed as trudged to the Inns door. Using the side of her arm she pushed it open and was greeted with the smell of cigars and booze. The sound of lively chatter and piano was inviting and oddly comforting, she closed the door behind her and took in her surroundings. On her left was a bar with thin wooden shelves behind it, the top shelves were mostly empty and dusty, while the lower shelves held many types of glass bottles presumably holding some type of alcohol. Few lingered around the bar talking to the bartender, the barkeep poured a golden liquid into a small glass cup and passed to a gruff old man standing on the other side of the bar top. She shifted her eyes to the middle of the saloon, an old well-worn rug which looked like it was red at one point in time, laid before a wide wooden staircase the led to a landing and then diverged off into two different sections. A group of men hung around the bottom of the stairs, a few of them had cigars between their lips occasionally letting out a puff of whitish smoke escape their mouth. A woman waving her fan stood on the landing, she wore a long dark skirt with a tight white cropped shirt tucked in. To the right of the stairs were round tables scattered from the back of the saloon towards the entrance, the tables only had a few chairs and some were adorned with a lit candle. In the back corner, a man sat at a large piano which the paint had started to peel. She brought her attention back towards the barkeep, she tipped her hat back and wandered to the counter.


End file.
